Conquistador
by SassyJ
Summary: A New York assignment brings changes for everyone
1. Default Chapter

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Conquistador

By SassyJ

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A New York assignment turns the boys' lives upside down.

**Dedicated to Kacey, our resident "Ice" fan, with love.**

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Chapter One

Chrissy and the boys turned out of the hotel and started the short walk to the apartment. The boys were chipper, a definite spring in their step; Chrissy watched Charlie out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes she wondered if their tentative relationship had foundered because he was a New Yorker and she too LA for him. Watching him now, he fit right in; the pace was different here, the air different, even the light was different and she felt all out of sync.

Ice and Alphonse fit in too. Both men were subtly different, Ice cooler and more laid back than ever, Alphonse seemed to draw on the very air he breathed, more alive than ever. Suddenly he spun on his heel, arms held wide, "Chrissy?"

"Yes." She eyed the open invitation and tried to come up with her usual brush off, but she needed the reassurance and just this once, she wasn't going to fight it. Alphonse's arms closed round her almost reflexively and she could feel his surprise, and then he returned her hug enthusiastically. Then she stepped back and recovered her composure.

__

In some ways he's changed, a couple of years ago, he would have taken advantage. Chrissy looked up, met his surprised and sympathetic gaze, she patted his hand awkwardly and turned to cross the street before anyone could make any smart remarks.

Ice and Charlie exchanged glances, but Alphonse refused to be drawn. The Latin watched Chrissy closely, sensing that all was not right with her.

The apartment was smart, gracious and uptown. From the very moment of entry things started to change. O'Connor was waiting for them, grim expression on his face.

"We're too late. Miss Laura Neill was found at 7.00 am by her housekeeper. Shotgun right in the face. So the enquiry is now a murder enquiry. You can start by going through this place with a fine tooth comb." He waved his hand at their elegant surroundings.

Grumbling under their breath, they started the search.

Ice looked around him, noting the exquisite touches, the gracious layout of her home. _A woman of style and taste_. He picked through the letters and papers on her desk, casually opening drawers, in the right hand top drawer he found a journal, picking it up, he opened and began to read.

Laura Neill had been a busy woman, he eased himself into a chair enthralled by the writing. Her wry observations on her lifestyle piqued his interest.

Charlie appeared in the doorway behind him. "Ice......searching for clues.....remember." Ice ignored him, Charlie shrugged and glanced up at the painting over the fireplace. _Stuart Jacoby..........worth some._ He checked it over. O'Connor stepped up behind him.

"O'Bannon, get on with it."

"Who's the dame?"

"The dame..." O'Connor's tone was pointed, "is the owner, the late Miss Laura Neill."

Ice glanced up swiftly and checked out the painting. His eye flowed over her beauty lovingly, appreciating the artist's touch. The eyes transfixed him, as he gazed deeply into the portrait he made her a silent promise. _Laura, we're gonna find out who did this to you._

Charlie made a few calculations in his head, _a Stuart Jacoby, painting of the late owner, murdered in mysterious circumstances…….jack the price up a couple of 0's._

Alphonse moved slowly through the bedroom. From the instant he'd stepped into the apartment a cold feeling had passed over him. He'd gone through the motions, but a nameless dread clawed at his spine. _Nothing in here. Good. This place gives me the creeps._

He went to find the others.

The moment he stepped through the door into the lounge he knew there was something very wrong, Alphonse saw the painting with different eyes. The feeling of dread swept its icy fingers over him again, instinctively he crossed himself, then the thumb and forefinger of his right hand sought out the small gold cross on the chain round his neck.

Charlie saw the involuntary movement and was startled. Alphonse was catholic like himself, but he'd always pegged the Latin as a non-believer, he'd never seen him do anything like that before.

"People, can we get back to what we are doing?" O'Connor's acerbic tones broke the spell. "A young woman has been murdered!"

Several hours later and they were no nearer finding out anything than they had been at the start. They headed back to their hotel. As he was leaving Ice slipped the diary into his jacket pocket. _Who knows, may be find a clue._ He closed his mind to the other thought that swept through it.

Charlie was even more upbeat as he headed back to the hotel. Corky was in town, and they had a nice evening planned. He turned to his partners, both of them seemed in a different world. Ice had his hand in his jacket pocket and a faraway look on his face. Charlie flicked a glance at Alphonse, the Latin seemed preoccupied, then a look of sheer terror swept across his face. The computer expert was stunned, then the look vanished as though it had never been.

Charlie shrugged, they'd both been acting weird since they'd arrived at the apartment. He kept his thoughts to himself, _Corky._ A huge grin plastered itself across his sharp features. _Now that was a nice thought._

Eight pm and it was raining outside. Ice had withdrawn to his room, not wanting the presence of his partners to distract him, the journal burning a hole in his pocket. He eased down into a chair and began to read again.

Laura talked about her life, her company, her _boyfriend_. Ice dismissed Carlton Jennings as weak and insignificant. Laura had been about to give him the brush off anyway. _Maybe he couldn't handle rejection, so he came and blew her away so no one else could have her._ Something in Laura's smooth self assurance and way with words appealed to the artist in Ice's soul. He could picture the scenes in his head, exactly as she'd written them.

With a start he realised it was ten-thirty. He was restless, the journal was drawing him in. The painting on the wall, the Jacoby one, was calling to him. Ice got to his feet, and walked over to the window. The rain was relentless, but he knew he was going back to the apartment.

It was ten-forty-five as he opened the door, stepping gracefully round the marking on the floor, as though not to disturb her rest. He re-entered the living room, sinking down into the easy chair, he gazed at the painting, _Laura, I wish you could talk to me._ He slid bonelessly down onto his spine, he was dead tired.

Some half hour later, there was a scratching at the door. A key turned in the lock. A figure stepped over the threshold, shaking out a raincoat and hanging it on the hook in the darkened hallway. The figure moved towards the living room, placing a case on the floor outside the door, pausing in disbelief in the doorway.

Ice woke with a jerk, not sure of what had woken him, his eyes flew open and he gazed up into the face of the living, breathing original of the painting.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" she turned to the phone on the desk. "I'm going to call the police."

"Er. I am the police." Ice's brain was trying to play catch up with his eyes. He delved into his pocket for his badge, thanking his lucky stars that finally they had badges and official status. "But…..but you're dead."

The girl looked at him torn between humour at his startled look and bewilderment, "But you see, I'm quite alive."

Ice pulled himself together. "Last night a young woman of about your height and build, wearing your robe was murdered in this apartment. We thought it was you."

The young woman reeled slightly, the humour wiped instantly from her face. "How horrible, but I lent my apartment to my gallery assistant last night, as I was going out of town. She's about my height, light brown hair, blue-grey eyes. Her name's Diane Allen."

Ice swallowed, he suddenly felt sick. _Diane's wet through, it rained last night, so she borrowed her employer's robe, she runs to answer the door and BAM! Mr X lets her have it with both barrels._

Laura was shivering. Ice stepped closer, sliding his arm around her. Taking the liberty. She didn't pull away, instead she leaned into him. He could smell her perfume, light and delicate, a surprise, he'd expected the heavy dusky scent so beloved of uptown women. Instead of the aroma of the casbah, it was country fresh, dew drops on meadow flowers. He leaned a little closer.


	2. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

"I don't buy it." Alphonse sat back against the desk and folded his arms across his chest, a look of mulish inflexibility on his face.

"Don't buy what?" Charlie added his ten cents worth. "What's to buy? Person or persons unknown knock on a door, a girl answers, she's so high," he gestured with his hand "brown hair, the hallway's dark, they blow away the wrong girl, end of story."

"Charlie, that's what I don't buy." Alphonse leaned forwards emphasising his words, palms down on the desk. "I don't buy that she lends her apartment to a girl who could be her double and the girl gets blown away instead of her. It's too convenient." He glanced across the room to where Ice and Laura were standing. "Then there's that."

Charlie followed his gaze. Ice seemed very taken with Laura, and from where he was sitting, the feeling was mutual. _She's a good looking girl, and Ice deserves a break._ He turned back to Alphonse. "So? Ice is a free agent, she's a free agent."

"She's a suspect in a murder investigation."

"'Phonse, you sound like O'Connor." Charlie suddenly grinned, "Or you're jealous? A good looking girl shows up and she's only got eyes for Ice." He leant forward, "what is it with you, professional pride?"

Alphonse scowled, _jealous, no way. There's something about her that gives me the creeps._ He shivered. And it hurt that Charlie thought he was that shallow. With a huge wave of misery, Alphonse acknowledged that he really missed Lucy, and Dylan, his fourteen year old daughter. Parenting for him was largely guesswork, and there had been times when he'd wished he could weasel out of the responsibility. But whenever he was separated from her, he was desperate to get back to her.

O'Connor listened impassively to Laura's story. She had gone away for the evening, just to be out of the apartment if Carlton Jennings had called. Jennings had asked her to marry him, and although initially she had said yes, she had been having second thoughts and wanted space to think things through.

Diane had asked if she could possibly use Laura's apartment as she wanted some time alone with her boyfriend and she shared her apartment with three other girls. So Laura had said yes and given her the key.

Wasn't that a bit unusual.

Not at all, Diane had borrowed the apartment on several previous occasions, and Laura was happy to let her do it. They had an extremely good working relationship.

Ice sat back and let Laura's words flow over him. It wasn't what she was saying, she could have been reciting from the telephone directory for all he cared, it was the tone and colour of her voice, the cut and thrust of the argument. O'Connor questioned, she answered. Ice just sat and appreciated her quick wit.

Ice didn't even look up when Charlie and Alphonse joined them. Alphonse noted the rapt expression on his partner's face and shuddered, once again his right thumb and forefinger sought out the little gold cross hanging from the chain round his neck.

Charlie noted the move. _Jeez, something's really eating at 'Phonse._ Then his attention was drawn back to what Laura and O'Connor were saying.

"I made a deal about three months ago, for a collection of artefacts from Peru. Amongst them was the cross of Titicaca, the personal religious icon of the Cortes Family. Another dealer, Max Briter also bid for the exclusive handling. He wasn't pleased to be beaten to it, in fact, I'm sure he had a buyer lined up for the cross."

O'Connor looked sceptical, "And this makes you sure that he tried to kill you?" Alphonse silently applauded, her story didn't hold up.

Laura sighed, dropped her eyes to her hands twisting together in her lap. "He came and offered me nearly twice the amount for the cross three days ago. And for the painting of Hernan Cortes which is part of the lot. He offered around four times more than the painting is worth."

O'Connor leant forward, "Four times more than it's worth?……………Interesting. I think we will pay a little visit to Mr Briter."

Alphonse couldn't take any more. "You're not gonna believe her, are you?" he couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "That story's crap."

Laura turned to him, hurt and fear trembled in her voice. "It's true. It's all true." Tears welled in her eyes and she turned her face away, trying to regain her composure. Ice's hand settled over hers, and the older man leaned forward, a steely gaze in his eyes.

"It's good enough for me. So unless someone died and made you the Director of the FBI, we're going with the Briter theory."

Alphonse glared at him. "She shows up out of nowhere, **most convenient**, finds you in her apartment, a total stranger yet she doesn't run screaming from the room or ring the cops; then you have one conversation and on the basis of that she's innocent of everything and I'm the bad guy here?"

O'Connor stepped in before it could come to blows. "We have an objective. Royo, if you can deal with that?"

Alphonse subsided, hurt. "Yeah, yeah." He waved a hand dismissing them.

"You up for this?" Charlie looked at his partner. This felt very like almost a year before when Alphonse had been distracted by a letter from his mother. _Things went to hell in a barrel then._

Alphonse snapped at him. "Yes. I'm doing it. When it all proves to be a load of bullshit, I am going to have great pleasure in saying _I told you so._." His expression indicated something very far removed from pleasure. The Latin looked stressed and tense.

By contrast Charlie had never felt more relaxed or confident. _Like taking candy from a baby_. Somewhere along the way they seemed to have switched sides, Alphonse was wound up and neurotic; Charlie, taking things in his stride.

Before Charlie could unburden himself of any more platitudes, Alphonse got up and left the trailer. His job was to be gallery slave to Max Briter, who was advertising for an assistant, and whilst there search for clues. Alphonse saw it slightly differently. Sure he was going to investigate Briter, but that didn't mean he couldn't check out the_ lovely_ Laura too. It really burned him that Ice was taking this _babe's_ word over his friend's, particularly after the run in they'd had over another Laura. A humourless smile crossed the Latin's lips, Ice seemed fated to be taken in by women called Laura. Always at the back of his mind lurked this nameless fear, his fingers clasped the little cross again, rubbing it.

Alphonse shook himself, _get on with it Royo._ He straightened his back, stared straight ahead and crossed the street, the picture of confidence that he didn't really feel.

Charlie settled down to listen in on Alphonse's wire.

Max Briter was a rubicund, effusive man in his late forties, with a charmingly "Gay" manner which he seemed to have culled from watching Noel Coward movies. Anyone less like a murderer Alphonse couldn't have envisaged, and if he were a murderer, _shotgun, too messy, wouldn't appeal to his sense of beauty._ Briter seemed to have a real dislike of ugly things, his comments on Alphonse's appearance made that obvious. The big Latin was torn between irritation and embarrassment, with a niggling desire to keep his back to the wall.

Briter hired Alphonse on the spot, references were waved away as being "too mundane, dear boy! I never ask for references."

Four hours later, and Alphonse had drawn his own conclusions. Briter wasn't the man they were looking for. The effusiveness hid a shrewd brain, and the man was far too self absorbed to consider killing anyone. A swift search revealed an interest in Jacoby paintings, _and plenty of buyers for those_, there was a little click in Alphonse's brain. _Jacoby………Jacoby, why do I know that name?_

Playing the dumb innocent, Alphonse asked. Briter became more effusive than ever, "Jacoby, my dear boy, simply exquisite. Paintings sell like hot cakes. Become even more popular since the fire."

"**Fire!!**" If alarm bells really had been ringing, Alphonse would have been stone deaf by now. "What fire?"

"Too tragic, there was a fire at Jacoby's warehouse, where he stored some of his work. The building burnt to the ground before the fire department could get the blaze under control and they found Jacoby's body in the ruins." A sudden calculation came into Briter's eyes. "Some of his best work perished with him. They'd be worth a large fortune today."

Alphonse was almost tempted to ask why he'd offered so much for the Conquistador.

After offering up his version of his day to an almost indifferent Ice, Charlie, Chrissy and O'Connor, Alphonse slipped away. He had plans for the evening that didn't include his partners or his boss. If they had been following, they would have been startled to see his shopping trip included three bookstores and the New York City Library.

Ice checked his reflection in the mirror, _looking good._ He was taking Laura to a nice restaurant this evening, _then a little firelight, a little romance and who knows._ He smiled.

She was ready and waiting, answering the door at his light knock. He couldn't bring himself to ring the bell, _nothing to remind her of how Diane died._ She stepped eagerly over the threshold and into his arms, a chaste kiss on the cheek, with so much promise behind the gesture. He was flying.

Dinner was perfect. Back at the apartment, Ice settled back into the easy chair that he'd made his own over the last three days, a glass of VSOP five star at his elbow, a beautiful woman in the chair opposite. Ice savoured the moment.

Charlie tugged on Corky's hand, and she half fell into his arms in the elevator. They embraced passionately, ignoring the strange looks from the other occupants. By the time, they reached their floor they were completely oblivious to anyone but themselves. The attendant had to draw their attention to the fact they'd arrived at their floor.

All the way to Charlie's door they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Charlie fumbled one handed with the lock, he wasn't letting go. Once inside clothes melted away and they got down to the serious business of exploring each other.

Chrissy and O'Connor reviewed what they had.

"Royo may yet turn up some leads." O'Connor looked at his field agent. As handler, she couldn't be faulted, the boys usually obeyed her and she did manage to curb their excesses, but just lately she didn't seem to be on top of the job.

"Huh!" Chrissy became aware of his scrutiny.

"Christine, if you are not up to this, go back to LA and Cornfield can take over."

She looked away, embarrassed. "No……no, I'm fine." Shuffling papers in an attempt to distract his gaze. "Was that all, sir."

O'Connor sighed, the whole team seemed to have changed, _and not for the better_. 

"Yes, yes. Go on." Dismissing her.

Chrissy gathered her things up and left the office. Walking back slowly to the hotel.

Alphonse went through all the information he'd managed to gather on Stuart Jacoby. A gifted portrait painter, the man also painted several series of more abstract works; it was mostly those that sold well _and were destroyed in the fire which killed Jacoby._ The more Alphonse thought about it, the more it seemed that Jacoby was the key.

He came across a name, Jacoby's main backer, a Christian Bader. _Gotta pay a visit to Mr Bader in the morning._ And Miss Laura Neill's gallery handled a lot of Jacoby's work. _Now there's a surprise._

He rolled over and reached for the telephone, he badly needed to talk to Lucy and Dylan.


	3. Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

Ice walked Laura to her gallery, reluctantly leaving her to join O'Connor and the others at the New York office. As far as he was concerned, no one seemed to be taking the threat to her life seriously.

Charlie wasn't happy. There was chilly distance between Ice and Alphonse. Ice started to talk about the great evening he'd had with Laura, the Latin got up and left the room. Charlie and Chrissy stared after him.

"What's up with Alphonse?" Chrissy stared slightly accusatorily at Ice.

Ice shrugged. "he's sore at me for some reason. Don't mind him."

Alphonse went to see Christian Bader. From the moment Bader opened his front door, something smelt fishy to the big Latin. Bader was too sure, his answers too pat, and his grief totally feigned.

Jacoby had gone to check over some paintings ready for shipment to a gallery in France. He'd stayed late, wanting to get the packing up done and ready to go the next day. The fire investigators had found that a lamp had fallen over, started a small fire in the packing materials and it had spread rapidly when it reached the cans of paint thinner, Jacoby had become trapped and perished in the blaze from smoke inhalation.

Alphonse listened quietly, his mind turning over several questions. He thanked the man and left.

Bader watched him from the window as he walked quickly up the street, when Alphonse rounded the corner he stood thoughtfully for a moment, then reached for the telephone.

Charlie had to check on Diane Allen's boyfriend. O'Connor had found it highly significant that Tom Berry hadn't been seen since Diane's death. Charlie had some trouble tracking him down, but the old infalliable criminal sense soon put him on the right track.

After a thorough check of parking tickets on Chrissy's laptop, Charlie narrowed Berry down to about three streets in a rundown area of the city. He reached for the phone.

"Wanna help me find Mr Wonderful?"

Corky's teasing little answer sent shivers up his spine. "What's in it for me?"

"Oooh! That's open for negotiation."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

With Laura on his mind, Ice headed back to the gallery. She was on the phone when he got there, and he took time to step back and admire her anew. She was a symphony in brown and gold today, the warmth of the chocolate brown perfectly complementing her skin, the gold scarf picking up the lights in her hair. Ice's senses leapt at the prospects in front of them.

She looked up, and caught his eye, her smile was warm and welcoming and Ice basked in the sense of delight that a new conquest always gave him.

He slid closer, putting his arms around her waist, a teasing smile "What you say we blow this place off for the day?"

Her answering smile plucked at his nerves like a harp. "What did you have in mind?"

"A drive out to the country, a little light lunch at a nice country inn, warm log fire, a little romance…" he chucked that into the heady brew.

"Weeeeellll!" She spun it out, playing along. "I have this dreary appointment at 5.00 pm or so, which I have to be back for, but………..Yes."

Ice didn't quite punch the air in triumph, but he came close.

Charlie and Corky stood outside Berry's dingy apartment and waited, finally, a thin weaselly man of about thirty with a straggly excuse for a moustache and beard appeared.

"Tom Berry."

Very wary, "Yeah."

"Got some questions for you."

He seemed strangely resigned to his fate, offering them no resistance. He didn't exactly invite them in, but they entered anyway.

Tom Berry caved in before Charlie had time to ask him anything. He slumped down on the ratty old couch and dissolved into tears. He'd been five minutes late, and when he'd got up to the apartment the front door was open…."and then I saw her lying there. She was dead."

He thought then of saving his own skin, he'd been involved in petty crime since he was a kid, and he knew the police would lay it at his door, so he'd pulled the ring from her finger and departed, after wiping off any possible fingerprints.

Charlie listened to this litany of self serving cowardice and tried to hold on to his temper. _What a creep!_

There seemed nothing more that Berry could tell them. He was the three wise monkeys rolled into one, deaf, blind and intentionally mute.

Ice dropped Laura back at the gallery. He was in expansive mood, the day had been perfect. Log fire, good food, good company. He was on a roll, _the Ice man cometh._

Twenty minutes later, his mood had changed.

"........in conclusion, I have to say that, beyond an interest in Jacoby's work, the subject has no means, no motive, no opportunity and no desire to murder Miss Laura Neill." Alphonse's Damon Pickford act wore on Ice's nerves.

Ice glanced bitterly at him, "It just burns you that she's with me, doesn't it?"

"Ice man, she's pulling the wool! Why won't you see that." Alphonse leaned forward. "She killed Diane."

"**And what do you base that on?**" Ice rose up out of his chair, "**Oh yeah, I forgot, the famous Royo sixth sense that says every woman who doesn't come on to you is a killer**!"

"**Ice, she's using you**." Alphonse spun round. "Chrissy, help me out here. Charlie?"

Charlie's misplaced sense of humour, desperate to lighten the situation, made everything worse. "Just cos she's not out to get you, doesn't mean you're PARANOID."

Alphonse went a strange shade of dull red. "**SHE'S THE KILLER. AND I'M GONNA PROVE IT!**" he spat.

Chrissy tried to placate him. "Alphonse......"

"**Alphonse, nothing. I ain't gonna wait here and listen to this. Just remind him**," he jabbed a finger in Ice's direction, "**who saved his ass when the time comes**."

He was gone in an explosion of temper.

It was about six pm, Alphonse was working the streets, the small galleries, searching for something, anything that would pin it on Laura. Everything he knew about women, and about being a player told him that this one was trouble. And it hurt that his partners were treating him like an idiot. Alphonse was on a mission and nothing was going to get into his way.

He paused on a bench to read through the notes he'd been carrying around all day. He had a few pictures and he idly leafed through them. _I wouldn't give 20 cents for some of this stuff, let alone 25,000 dollars._ A picture caught his eye, one he hadn't noticed before and suddenly things started to take on a different meaning. Hurriedly he shoved the notes and pictures into his overcoat pocket, _hafta get back to Briter's gallery._

He headed back towards the gallery. Turning down a side street, he pulled his overcoat collar up against the cold and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. So intent was he on what he'd discovered he didn't see the car.

The black sedan plowed into him, some instinct of danger made him half turn, the force of the blow and the car's momentum flipped him onto the hood, there was a split second of recognition as he registered the driver, and then his head hit the windshield with stunning force.

The car's speed hurled the unconscious body to the ground. The driver braked, and for a second considering reversing up to finish him. _Nothing should disturb the first careless rapture of the body, a simple hit and run, could happen anytime any where. No possible connection to the case._

The car was parked and the driver got out, walking back to the body. The pockets of the overcoat yielded exactly what the driver was looking for. Then the rain started again, _good, dark clothes, a dark alley, nightime, no one will find him for hours, he'll be dead long before they get to him._

The driver walked away.


	4. Chapter Four

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Chapter Four

Chrissy sat in the darkened ICU and tried very hard not to cry. Alphonse's impulsive nature had landed him in hospital before, but they'd never come this close to losing him.

A young couple taking a shortcut home had found him and called for help. His FBI badge had been in his jacket pocket and she'd received the call ten minutes later.

Chrissy couldn't figure where it had all gone so wrong, it was a simple case, it should have been over quickly. Now the boys were at odds, and Alphonse had been so desperate to prove something that he'd met his…………………… Chrissy choked, tears poured down her face. She reached out to stroke his undamaged cheek.

"Come back Alphonse, please." She whispered quietly. Then jumped at the movement behind her.

Charlie put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Hey, it's okay, only me." He moved up to the bed, "How is he?"

"No change." Chrissy's voice trembled, "Did you make the calls?"

"Yeah, Rhonda and Adam should be here any minute, and Maria's booking herself on a flight. She'll be here in the morning. Ice is still on the phone to Lucy."

__

But will Alphonse still be here in the morning? Chrissy felt sick. Most of his injuries in themselves were not life threatening, his left leg was broken in three places, he had bruises and cuts all over, he'd even sprained his right wrist when he'd landed on it, but all that paled into insignificance next to the head injury.

His head had obviously struck the car hard, there was a deep gash above his right eye, the right hand side of his face was bruised and swollen, with a multitude of cuts and grazes. The doctor had worked hard to stitch the wounds with a multitude of tiny stitches so that the scars wouldn't be too bad, but he was probably going to need surgery. _If he comes out of the coma._ Chrissy picked up his right hand, gently smoothing the bare skin above the bandage, "come on 'Phonse, please try, for us…………..we need you." 

They'd taken root in the waiting room, set up in their little individual camps. Charlie and Corky, with Maria, Rhonda and Adam with Ice and Laura; O'Connor and Chrissy trying to hold everything together.

The recriminations had already started as guilt and fear grew stronger with each passing hour. Rhonda and Alphonse had been going through a rough patch. Rhonda had been angry that, when she'd allowed Adam to stay with his father, Adam had gone out partying until the small hours and his father had just laughed, she'd been less than impressed and said as much. Whisking her child away from Alphonse's contaminating influence.

Charlie paced up and down. Corky and Maria were huddled together, both women had been crying. Ice and Laura sat close together, she put a comforting hand on the back of his. "I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Nuthin' to be sorry about. It wasn't your fault." Ice tried hard to overcome his own guilt. "Wasn't anybody's fault……………if 'Phonse had…"

"If Alphonse had …..what?" Maria got to her feet, a dangerous tension in her tone.

Ice quickly tried to back track, that wasn't what he had meant at all, but to Alphonse's devastated sister it was one more nail in the coffin.

"Ice didn't mean anything, Maria. Alphonse was reckless." Rhonda tried to offer her own explanation but the enraged young woman didn't hear it.

"**Alphonse would have done anything for you, and Charlie. You were more important to him than his family. And God knows he had precious little of that.**" Maria's voice was cold and bitter, the tone edging towards hysteria. "**And you!**" she swung round on Rhonda. "**You thought so little of him that you dumped him at the first opportunity you had. You kept his son from him for years. And now you think you know everything.**"

Charlie stepped in and tried to put his arms round Maria, as she dissolved into tears. Rhonda stood stunned as Maria's accusation hung in the air. Then her anger rose.

"**I brought up Adam all by myself and I never asked for help, then suddenly Alphonse comes back after twelve years and thinks that it's all going to be hearts and roses again!**" 

The doors blew inward and a whirlwind entered. Lucy O'Bannon was a very angry woman. Charlie recognised the signs and tried to stop her. A powerful fist connected hard with his jaw. Winded, Charlie staggered backwards.

"**WHADDYA DO THAT FOR!**" He rubbed his jaw.

"**I WARNED YOU!!**" Lucy snarled, and was going to lunge again when a powerful arm locked round her waist and pulled her back against a heavily built body.

"Luce, will ye calm doon. Ye'll no do yon man any good by punchin' oot y'brother." Ali tightened his grip. And suddenly realised there was a stunned silence.

About thirty seconds too late, Charlie and Ali realised that Rhonda knew nothing about Dylan. The teenager had entered with Ali. Rhonda was staring wide eyed. While her son was a definite product of both their genes, there was no doubting exactly who Dylan was. Unruly brown hair, wide blue eyes, full sensual mouth, Dylan was her father in feminine form.

"And who the hell are you?" Rhonda's tone implied no good towards Alphonse. There was more than a little 'street urchin' in Dylan's make up and she took exception to the implied insult to her father. She lunged at Rhonda.

Ali handed Lucy off to her brother and grabbed Dylan before she could get to the older woman. Charlie grabbed Lucy, just as her eyes rolled up in her head and she fainted dead away in his arms.

Confusion reigned as several people dived to support the wilting Lucy and in the general melee, Ali firmly steered Dylan into Alphonse's room. Chrissy looked up from her bedside vigil, and instinctively gave place to Dylan. Ali heaved a sigh of relief and turned his mind back to the events in the waiting room.

Left alone with her unconscious father, Dylan moved up close to the bed. He was so white and still, there were nasty bruises on his face and his leg was in plaster, propped up on a mound of pillows. Scorning the chair, Dylan kicked off her boots and slipped up onto the bed next to him. Very carefully she spooned her body up close to his, sliding one hand around his neck, she pressed her cheek against the top of his head.

"Daddy, I'm here. And I'm staying." She cuddled close.

Ali returned to the waiting room, pushed concerned people aside and scooped Lucy up in his arms, laying her on the couch. He loosened off her clothing.

Charlie was beside himself. Lucy wasn't the fainting kind. "Whatsa matter with her?" He hovered anxiously next to the big hefty Scot. Ali glared at him, "Ah understand that it's a family complaint." He glowered significantly.

"Uh! Y'mean fainting at the drop of a hat every time she gets……yiyiyiyiyiyi!" Charlie stared round-eyed at Ali, the Scot held his gaze.

"Exactly. An' ah'm sure she'd no like it if ye spread it aroond, so keep it tae ye'self."

Adam ignored what was going on around him. From the moment he clocked Dylan he'd been fascinated in spite of himself. When he'd been out in LA with Alphonse, he'd treated his exasperated father to a dose of sibling jealousy, the situation was not helped by the fact that Dylan had done the same, she'd stamped off to summer camp without a backward glance. They'd utterly refused to meet.

Now Adam had seen her, he was curious. So when the big man who'd pushed her into Alphonse's room returned, Adam slipped past into the quiet of ICU.

Dylan was sitting on the bed, cuddled up close to Alphonse, holding her father as though he was the most precious thing on earth. Adam suddenly felt awkward and foolish as though he was intruding, but Dylan held out her hand to him and he moved closer.

His half sister eased their father's arm carefully over her knees so that Adam could reach his father's hand. Swiftly taking the chair that Dylan had scorned, Adam pulled it closer to the bed. Two sets of trembling fingers clasped securely round their father's hand.


	5. Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

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Two o'clock in the mornin', an' I'm still tryin' to figure where it all went so wrong. The glass in front of me's not helping…….don' even know why I ordered it, I hate tequila, but I couldn't be bothered to talk to the bartender much, so I just pointed at something and ordered that. I needed something to do with my hands while I'm sitting here making a plan.

A plan, now that's funny. I don' even seem to have a plan left……. Not after what happened in the hospital.

What happened in the hospital, the moment I knew our lives had blown apart an' fixin' 'em was gonna be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life before.

So……..I'm sitting there, me an' Charlie, hoping and praying that Alphonse is gonna wake up, an' he'll be sore at us, but basically things will be fine and we can get back to where we were a week ago. Is it only a week, it seems longer. So, I'm sitting next to the bed, an' I take Alphonse's hand, his fingers move to close against mine, that's the way it's been for the last two days, he's responding to us but he's still unconscious. "Alphonse," I lean in closer, "come on man, y'can do it……for us.." His hand moves again but nothing more.

The door opens behind me and Laura slips in, comes close, her scent wraps round me like a warm blanket, her hand comes down on my shoulder, "How is he?" soft, gentle, sympathetic; I still don't get why 'Phonse has such a down on her.

The fingers resting limply in my hand convulse. Alphonse moves. He gasps and arches his back slightly. "Alphonse!" I lean in again. "Alphonse", Charlie gets to his feet and moves closer.

Suddenly, 'Phonse's eyes open, for a second he stares wide eyed at me, then he screams, snatching his hand from my grasp and trying to push back against the pillows!

I'm stunned. Adam and Dylan must have been waiting outside the door, because they burst in, together they try to settle their father down. Pandemonium breaks out all around us. Lucy appears, followed by Maria, Chrissy and Corky, then half the nursing staff. A doctor starts to push us all out, and I catch a last glimpse of 'Phonse, eyes screwed tight shut, clinging to his daughter like a drowning man clutches at a straw.

Hours pass, or it seems like hours. I pace backwards and forwards, mainly cos then I won' need to talk to the others. I don' know what to say. For the first time in my life, I've no plan, no comeback. I jus' keep seeing the terror in 'Phonse's eyes. Then the hatchet falls, jus' like that, no warning…….a doctor appears, he gathers us around, Alphonse is conscious, but in a lot of pain and there's something else………the blow to his head has effected his short term memory….an' our presence in the room upsets him. The patient's welfare has to come first, so we're banned, Charlie an' Chrissy an' me.

It hurts. God, I didn't think it would hurt this much! Chrissy bursts into tears, Corky goes to comfort her, Charlie just stands there, Laura tries to say something, but I can't……….I can't deal with that…….I tell her so……quietly………..but I've gotta get outta there before I blow it….I can feel myself flooding……………….an' I can't lose it in front of the others.

So I walk away………the doors swing shut behind me…..with a little plastic snapping sound. That little click is so final.

An' here I am……….swirling a drink in a glass……..a drink I don' even like…..trying to figure out a way to get through to 'Phonse………that whatever we've done, I'm sorry…..we never meant to hurt him………we never meant to leave him out there…………exposed………at risk.

Ice sat at the bar, alone, just swirling the drink around in the bottom of the glass, and trying to figure out what to do next. Every which way he turned he was coming up with nothing. _A simple hit an' run….yeah, like I belie' that. That the Alphonse Royo I know's, scared o'me. 'Phonse ain't scared o' anything……..okay, may be Lucy, but nothing else. He's bold, an' cocky, an' fearless, an' so totally reckless that………………….._

Ice swirled the drink again.

"Ye gonna drink that or jus' look at it."

The strong Scots accent startled Ice. He looked up, Ali was standing there. Ice frowned.

"No. Naebody sent me. Ah came tae find ye, cos we need ye. More than ever."

"Alphonse don't need me."

Alistair McBride pulled a stool out and parked his substantial frame upon it. "Yon man's been hit by a car, driven at him deliberately, he's got a broken leg, multiple cuts and bruises and a bang on the head which would finish the best o' us. He's no thinkin' straight. He needs ye more than ever."

Ice tried to concentrate on what Ali was saying.

"Maybe ye're lookin' at this all wrong?" Ali continued now that he had Ice's attention. "Forget who ran 'Phonse down, an' who killed yon girl, concentrate on the paintings, that's were it's at. The paintings."

Ali eyed the drink. "Ye gonna drink that?"

Ice pushed it towards him. "No!"

Ali downed it in one gulp. "Thinkin' makes a man thirsty." He put the glass down on the bar. And they walked out into the cold, wet night.


	6. Chapter Six

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Chapter Six

Alphonse lay as still as possible and tried to ignore the aches from his body. Everything hurt, his head ached constantly and the throbbing pain from his broken leg just would not let up. Every now and then, the nurses would come round to turn him in bed. It was agony. He knew they had to do it, laying still in one position for too long wasn't a good idea, but it hurt so much. He was beginning to dread the door being opened. If it wasn't for his girlfriend and his children…………..

And it wasn't just the pain. He could cope with the pain, especially with the help and care he was getting from his "family". It was the strange nameless fear running through his head. Every time he closed his eyes, the thing was flickering at the back of his consciousness, but he couldn't get a handle on it. Something was very wrong, but he just didn't know what it was and it was driving him crazy.

The door opened, he feigned sleep, _perhaps they'll go away._ A weight settled next to him and an arm gently eased his head against a muscular shoulder.

"'Phonse, I know y'faking it!"

__

Lucy! He didn't open his eyes, but leant into her. Lucy gently stroked his hair back from his forehead, carefully avoiding touching any of his cuts and bruises. His left hand came up and he tried to edge it under her top. Lucy grinned and kissed his forehead.

"Sweetheart, I think that might be a very bad idea!"

"Doll, I know, but a man can dream, can't he?" His eyes half opened, a certain twinkle in the blue depths. His knuckles made contact with her skin beneath the vest top, closing his eyes again with a satisfied sigh, he gently rubbed his hand in a circular motion on her smooth skin. Lucy snuggled a little closer, careful not to touch his leg, it worried her that he was in so much pain. But he was determined to tough it out.

The other thing that was worrying her was his extreme reaction when he woke up. Alphonse wasn't the panicky type and it wasn't like him to react that way. The gaps in his memory were due to the traumatic circumstances of the "accident". _Accident_, Lucy snorted to herself, _it was no accident!_ He shifted ever so slightly and she looked down.

"Hon?"

A slightly grumpy expression crossed his face, "it's this damn itch!" his eyes opened, "it started about three hours ago, just above my left knee." For a moment, the fingers of his left hand brushed the top of the plaster covering his leg, "it's making me crazy."

Lucy hugged him a little tighter. "Sweetheart, I know." He burrowed his cheek into her shoulder and resumed the stroking motions with his hand, sliding his knuckles a little further across her body. Alphonse knew every inch of Lucy's body by touch alone, suddenly his hand stilled, he opened his eyes to look up into her face. The answering smile told him everything he needed to know. Despite his aches and the miserable pain in his leg, he leaned in to kiss Lucy passionately.

Charlie, Corky and Chrissy were gathered in Charlie's room. Ice had disappeared, _probably sneaking time with Laura,_ Charlie seethed quietly to himself. But he had a more pressing problem. The former girlfriend, and the current girlfriend. The former girlfriend also being his boss and the current one an ex con like himself. The whole scenario was making Charlie's head spin. It was like parachuting into an uncharted minefield in the dark………….in a suit of armour……….and the mines were magnetic. _Jeez, get a grip_.

He took a big swig of his coffee, and nearly choked. Corky and Chrissy both leaped to bang him enthusiastically on the back, and then eyed each other warily. _Like two lionesses in the pride. Okay, okay…..gotta stop watching the discovery channel._

Charlie got his breath back and tried to get control of the situation.

"We.." he stopped to clear his throat, calm his nerves and bring his voice down an octave or two. "We have to find a way to make it up to 'Phonse."

Corky looked at him strangely. "Charlie, make what up to Alphonse? We don't even know what made him react like that."

Chrissy had her own ideas. "Charlie, we have to solve the case first." She paced up and down. "Alphonse was so convinced that Laura was the killer. Okay, so where's the motive. Jealousy, revenge, what?"

She swung round to face the others. "Why kill Diane? Charlie, did you get anything else out of Berry?"

He shook his head. "No. Not much."

"Go back and get something then. Bring him in. We have to rattle him, he knows more than he's saying."

Charlie got to his feet, eager to escape before anything could break out. Corky joined him, pointedly slipping her hand into his. A look of near panic crossed his features, despite the thrill sensations at her open display of affection and he glanced at Chrissy, a mixture of pride and apologies in his gaze.

Chrissy smiled. Inside she ached, the uncivilised small part of her wanted to scratch Corky's eyes out, but the cool efficient FBI agent would have died of shame. So she smiled and took it, when every fibre of her being longed to throw herself into Charlie's arms.

Ice was a man torn in two. The cool organised planned side said this was a woman he could really have something with, the hot headed explosive side of himself said that he owed his friend and then some, and he didn't believe that the hit and run on Alphonse was an accident. The big Latin had found something and someone had tried to silence him _forever_. It was the forever part that sent chills up the cool leader's spine.

He was having a hard time believing that Laura could be anything other than what she appeared to be, the cool, charming, intelligent woman who had captured his heart. _So there's another explanation_. Ali said that it was the paintings, Ice was going along with that. He trusted the Scot's judgement, Ali was a shrewd and intuitive operator.

So Ice went through the files, it was painfully slow, and then he started wondering if Alphonse had made notes.

Two hours later and Chrissy and he were studying the clothes Alphonse had been wearing when he was hit. Ice watched the emotions on Chrissy's face, she'd taken this very badly. Now he realised that she was barely maintaining.

He pulled a chair out and sat down next to her. "Chrissy?"

Nervously her hands smoothed the folds of Alphonse's black top coat, for a second her eyes met Ice's concerned gaze and then slithered away, without answering she reached for the next item in the bag. It was 'Phonse's shirt, black silk, but there was a large stiff darker patch on the collar and the material felt clammy and unpleasant. The realisation that it was his blood, staining the shirt, brought everything home at once. Chrissy fell apart.

Ice reached out, gently pulling her into his arms, letting her lean into him and sob her heart out. Words tumbled out, so mixed up with sobs and tears that they were incoherent. Over the last couple of years, Ice had gotten used to women sobbing on his shirt front, so he held on and waited for the storm to pass.

Finally she settled. Pulling back slightly, she hung her head, embarrassed. Ice sighed mentally. The last five years, he thought by now that they all knew each other.

"Chrissy."

She glanced at him almost furtively. "Yes?"

"Don' play that game with me."

"What game?"

"The one you're trying now. I thought we all knew each other better than that."

She looked at him, an expression of pain on her face. "I thought we did. I thought that the last five years counted for something and that whatever happened we would still be a team. But now I don't know."

"We're still a team." Ice countered with a buoyant confidence he didn't really feel. "Alphonse will get over this and he'll be back."

She smoothed her hand over the bloodstained shirt again. "Ice, I don't think I can ask him to come back after something like this." Ice looked slightly exasperated, Alphonse was a player and very resilient. "I know….." she shook her head "I know you're thinking of the other times he's been shot at and poisoned, and beaten up. This is different."

She paused. Trying to put her feelings into words without breaking down again. "When I saw him clinging to Dylan like that, and he was so scared….."

Ice cut across. "Alphonse is a player, he knows the score. Whatever made him react like that, it ain't how he really feels." He shook his head, really annoyed now, "We knew when you took us on that we were expendable. Taking risks is what we do. And we're damn good at it, belie' that! So don' sell Alphonse short."

Chrissy looked down at her hands, acknowledging the truth of what Ice was saying. She pulled herself up a little straighter, _weeping over Alphonse's injuries was less important than catching Diane's killer before he could finish what he started with 'Phonse._ She peered closely at Ice, his return gaze was so impassive as to be unbelievable. _Or she._

O'Connor pushed open the door to Alphonse's room, the big Latin was dozing quietly, alone. He'd sent his family packing, figuring that they were all exhausted.

O'Connor pulled a chair up to the bed, "Alphonse, you feel up to answering a few questions?"

A shade crossed the injured man's face, "Yeah." Hesitant, unsure.

It was so totally unlike Alphonse that O'Connor almost backed off then and there. "You sure?"

Alphonse swallowed hard, he dreaded this but he also dreaded the not knowing. "I'm ready. If I don't do this now, I don't know if I ever will."

"What's going on?" the quiet voice behind them made both men jump. Lucy stood there.

"I…" O'Connor rose to his feet. Alphonse looked up at his love, something passed between them, without another word Lucy kicked off her boots and slipped up onto the bed next to him.

O'Connor sat down again. "Ready?"

Lucy's fingers closed over Alphonse's hand. He nodded.

It was a lot tougher than O'Connor had expected. Royo frequently infuriated him, evasive, illusive, clever and charming, the Latin was also surprisingly brave, loyal and hard working. His naturally wild nature often led him into trouble. But this was different. Several times the Senior Agent found himself breaking off as Alphonse's distress increased.

Lucy held onto her lover's hand, and soothed him through it all.

O'Connor worked his way round to the accident. "Alphonse, you're walking down the alley, it's about five o'clock, it's raining. You hear a car and turn back, the car hits you….who do you see?"

Alphonse was shivering and distressed. "I don't remember."

O'Connor tried to end it, but Alphonse shook his head. "I need to do this." His breath was coming in gasps and snatches as he struggled to hold on, terror rising within him.

Lucy slid her arm round his shoulders. "'Phonse, you don't have to do this now."

"I do." He closed his eyes, leaning into her. "I just can't see it….."

"The car hits you and you're thrown on to the hood. Can you see the driver?" O'Connor felt sick, he hadn't expected to care this much, his respect for the Latin increased. Alphonse was obviously trying desperately to tough it out, but he was being overwhelmed by the pain and fear.

Suddenly the dam broke and Alphonse almost screamed the name.

Drained of colour, Lucy and O'Connor stared at each other.

After she'd managed to soothe Alphonse down a little and he'd drifted into a fitful doze, Lucy turned her attention back to O'Connor.

"We have to do something. I can't protect him like this. The hospital's wide open, anyone can get to him any time."

O'Connor looked straight at her. "What do you have in mind?" he said simply.

Lucy told him.


	7. Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

Chrissy glared with ill-disguised annoyance at Charlie. He raised his hands in a defensive gesture, "Don't shoot the messenger, okay! It's not my fault he's gone to ground."

"Ice?" She turned her attention to her anchor man, the smooth professional agent back in control. Ice sighed, as much as he hated to admit it, it was better when she was vulnerable.

"Nothing. Nothing in Alphonse's pockets, in his room, Briter knows nothing about _the poor, dear boy's work_," Ice managed a reasonable approximation of Briter's put on accent. "I've been every place he's been. Zero."

"Well we're just going to have to try.." The phone rang and Chrissy grabbed at it, irritated by the interruption.

"Christine Kowalski." As the colour drained from her face, the boys sat up, one thought, _Alphonse!!_

"I……er…..I understand." Blindly she fumbled to put the receiver down.

"Chrissy, what.." Charlie jerked her out of her reverie.

"Alphonse had a relapse, he's haemorrhaging badly. If…" she fought for control. "If we want….a….chance to say…………goodbye….." She broke down. They stared at her, transfixed with horror and disbelief.

They sat and waited. By the time everyone had arrived, Alphonse had already been taken into surgery. So a tense group waited for the outcome that everyone was hoping and praying would not be.

Chrissy sat and tried to think of all the things that annoyed her about the charming, illusive and wily criminal, all the times he'd flouted her orders, all the times he'd made unwanted passes at her, all the legions of women, his illegitimate children, everything and anything that would keep her from focussing on the pain of losing him. All she could think of was the way his eyes lit up when he was teasing her, the cute sexy smile he used to such devastating effect, his fiery temper which carried him through where others wouldn't even have tried, the gentler, softer side to his nature especially where women and children were concerned. He was light fingered and more dishonest than the other two, but he was also gentle and kind, so much about what she knew about him from the files and what she knew about him as a person didn't quite add up. He was an accomplished car thief, a dodgy card player, any role they came up with he would slip into as though born to it, he could charm anyone out of anything, but he never set out to deliberately hurt people. Now Chrissy wondered which one of the roles was really him.

She looked up at the surgeon standing in the doorway, even as he was shaking his head, she knew. Knew it was all over and that Alphonse had lost the fight.

Ice couldn't feel or think. The case was finished, he couldn't go on. Charlie turned to him, their eyes met, their utter devastation hung in the air. Around them, people began to move away. There was an eerie silence, as though something had died with Alphonse. Ice and Charlie stood and stared at each other, neither had the slightest idea what they were going to do.

Corky moved forward, sliding her arms round Charlie, she leant into him. He pulled her closer and held on tight, burying his face in her neck. Chrissy wrapped her arms round herself as she started to shake, now she would never know the truth.

O'Connor had cornered a small part of the New York office for them when they'd started the case, now the entire team was gathered into one room. He faced them all, they'd lost people in the line of duty before, but somehow an irritating, charming and unreliable con artist had got under his skin, O'Connor suddenly realised how much effect Alphonse had on the team and how empty a room seemed without him.

He tried to rally the troops, but his words sounded hollow and the troops were defeated. They headed out, concentrating on the tasks he'd handed out. Malcolm O'Connor turned to face the window and wished from the bottom of his heart that he'd never become involved.

Half crazy with grief Ice wandered the streets. It was midnight, one or two street punks had considered challenging him, but something about the ice cold look he'd thrown them had convinced them to give him a wide berth. He passed the bar where Ali had found him, _was it only two days ago?_, but not even alcohol held any interest.

He circled back round again, heading by instinct to Laura's place _perhaps the warmth of a new love could fix the pain of an old friend's death. Yeah, right, like I belie' that!_ He headed up the stairs, finger reached instinctively for the bell, she opened the door, in the half light from the hall he could see her clearly. Without a word, she reached out and pulled him in, and he went eagerly into her embrace.

Charlie and Corky were in Chrissy's room. The awkwardness had gone, blown away by their shared grief. The three of them carefully avoided his name, but he was in their minds.

"Are ye ready to do this?" Alistair McBride eyed his companion with misgiving. The big Scot doubted his partner's capabilities in this highly risky enterprise but they were the only two available. Malcolm O'Connor sighed and nodded.

"Let's do it."

They ducked against the pouring rain and ran swiftly to the opposite side of the street then up the alleyway next to the building. Some fifteen minutes later, two figures emerged from the back of the building and ran into the night.

__


	8. Chapter Eight

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Chapter Eight

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From the moment we met, I knew Alphonse Royo was trouble. And then some; he was wild, unreliable, romantic at heart, devious and cunning, but somehow he roused something in me that I thought I had buried long ago, my conscience! He was also the bravest, most loyal friend I ever had. Okay, so is Ice. But some things I just couldn't say to Ice, Alphonse knew 'em instinctively without being told.

I just wanna get the bastard that killed him, the one who ran him down and left him to die in the street. Alphonse was the glue that held us all together; he and Ice ran the scams, I provided the safety net, I taught him moves that kept him alive. Any accent, any role and Alphonse could be it. Sometimes I'd watch him and wonder why all the different personalities, why he would switch them on and off at will, then I realised it was his way of keeping himself separate, behind a wall. 'Cause if you got through the wall, that was the real Alphonse, and he couldn't handle that.

Then, outta the blue walks Lucy. The sister from hell. She didn't get through the wall, she blew it up. Well that's Lucy, no subtlty. But it made all the difference. They made each other happy, and somehow I was closer to both of them than I'd ever been before.

Charlie sat alone in front of the computer, brooding miserably. Corky was great, she'd loved Alphonse too and she knew exactly how he felt, but but she couldn't take away the pain. In fact, he was slightly stunned that he felt like this at all. Alphonse's calamitous childhood had left him devious and insecure, he'd exploited the first to the best of his flamboyant ability, making the most of a natural gift for acting, and buried the last beneath a combination of bravado and a shallow approach to life that drove his partners crazy.

Romancer, thief, a wicked fighter, devious, manipulative, downright lazy, at the same time restless and impulsive, brave, generous, by turns funny and irritating, he could wind Charlie up with just a look; Alphonse was the missing half of Charlie's life and he didn't know where he was going from here.

Ice stretched hard, muscles shuddering. Last night he'd come seeking solace and Laura had taken him in without a word. Words between them were unnecessary. Ice had come to her in a storm of emotion and her hunger and anger had matched his.

Now he lay alone in the double bed, alone and empty. The brief euphoria had died and there was nothing in its place. He tried hard to hold onto a small part of that feeling. Now all the doubts and fears were crowding back. Ice rolled over, reluctant to get up. His eye caught the picture above the bed, at first nothing, then the glimmerings of an idea took shape in his brain. An idea so horrific that he felt bile surge into his throat.

__

Noooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!

He threw the bed covers back and scrambled out of bed. Eyes drawn to the painting, he stared at the shattered remnants of his dreams. Dazed and confused, he dragged his clothes on and left the apartment.

By two in the afternoon, Ice was a man on a mission. He'd quietly appropriated a video camera and a few necessities from FBI supplies, now he waited outside the gallery. He'd carefully set himself up in the coffee shop across the street, where he could see and not be seen; setting up the camera unobtrusively had been difficult, but he needed proof.

He contemplated his options with no joy at all. The axe had fallen and he was seeing things with new eyes.

Three hours of waiting and he was rewarded with what he'd expected, a car pulled up outside the gallery, the gallery owner got in and the car pulled away. Ice jumped up, running outside to his car. Pulling out into the traffic, he managed to get a couple of cars between him and the big gold Caddy.

The Caddy swung west, heading in a totally different direction from the one Ice had anticipated, he made the move, keeping the big car in his sights.

They drove for what seemed like hours. Ice clung grimly to their tail, sometimes only one car separated him from his prey. It was hard work, trying to hang back yet keep up and Ice was feeling the strain.

Finally, the Caddy reached what seemed to be a long series of warehouses on a waterfront. Ice hung back further, idling the engine. Once he was satisfied that the occupants of the car hadn't seen him he moved up closer, parking deep in the shadows of a warehouse. He swung out of the car, more cautious than ever now. Moving quickly and quietly up to the slowly moving tambour door, barely a foot of space, but Ice had sensed blood, ignoring the dust and dirt, he rolled swiftly under the door.

The warehouse was large and filled with packing cases and racks. Easy cover for Ice to work his way back to the office. Laura stood there, talking to a man that Ice didn't recognise. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but a cold feeling swept over him as he acknowledged the truth, whether or not she had pulled the trigger, Laura knew about Diane's death.

So intent was he, he never heard the step behind him. Something crashed down on his skull and the lights went out.

Chrissy was tired and thoroughly pissed. She'd wept like a child for hours, now perversely she was angry, angry that Alphonse made her feel like this. He was a crook, a thief, shallow, vain……..but all she could remember was the kindness, the teasing, the thousand little things that made him her loveable rogue. But being angry with him for dying on her was better than the alternative; the gaping void in her heart.

But she was even more angry with Charlie and Ice. They'd gone off and left her, casually abandoned her to cope alone. Charlie was so wrapped round Corky, he………… She didn't know what she was accusing him of, _jealous_ a little voice whispered in her brain.

Ice was so blinded by his feelings for Laura, he couldn't see the wood for the trees. Which left Chrissy out in the cold, a place she was getting used to being. And she didn't like it.

Lucy had disappeared, taking Dylan and Adam with her. Rhonda was on Chrissy's back to get her son back. Chrissy had pointed out that it was college holidays, Adam was eighteen and well able to take care of himself and he'd just lost his father for chrissakes. Maria was a tearful mess, alternating between accusations of heaven knows what towards the FBI and a pathetic gratitude to Chrissy.

__

And O'Connor. Chrissy was furious. Her superior officer seemed to have disappeared along with Lucy's partner, Ali McBride. O'Connor had left fieldwork and the need to get his hands dirty far behind him, or so she had believed. _So what was this…….mid life crisis?_

Chrissy was seriously contemplating a career move, something a little less stressful, like sky-diving without a parachute.

Charlie ran background checks, and then background checks on the background checks. Alphonse had taken a particular interest in Jacoby and his paintings according to Briter. So Charlie paid close attention to the paintings, he cruised slowly through the catalogue of paintings, _very nice,_ Charlie appreciated the avant-garde style. He glanced idly down the descriptions, noting the paintings that had perished with Jacoby in the blaze, he was just about to flick over the page when something caught his eye.

Charlie sagged in his chair, _shit!_ He pulled himself together and reached for the phone.

Explaining his idea to Chrissy was difficult. The burden of guilt between them was enormous. No one had taken 'Phonse seriously and he'd been killed because they'd left him out there exposed.

"It all hinges around the paintings. When Jacoby died, this one was supposed to have gone up in smoke with him. But I saw that painting." He looked down at his hands "It was hanging on Laura's bedroom wall."

"Ice's new girlfriend is a killer!"

Charlie stared at her. "We don't know that. There could be some other kind of explanation."

Chrissy folded her arms. "Such as!!!"

"Such as……..such as……..I don't know………..maybe Jacoby gave it to her…….look, he painted her, we know that………………..so maybe he gave her the thing as a present."

Chrissy looked at him, sceptical. "And maybe he didn't." She got to her feet, "Whatever the story, Miss Neill's got a great deal of explaining to do. Let's go."

Charlie tried to think of an excuse, failed…..dispiritedly he got to his feet. He had the nasty feeling someone was going to be shooting at him, and soon.


	9. Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine

Charlie pulled the car over outside the gallery.

"Why don't we wait for back up?"

Chrissy folded her arms across her chest. "Charlie!"

"Okay, okay………..but I'm allergic to being shot at….."

She frowned irritably, there were times………

They entered the gallery, there was no sign of Laura, Charlie kept up a litany of complaint, but he stuck close to her side.

Chrissy cautiously entered the office. There were signs of hasty packing, and the burnt remnants of something in the waste basket. She bent down to retrieve some of it. Charlie was more interested in the laptop, he slid into the chair to examine the records more closely. The whole scam was laid out in detail, and for a split second he admired the simplicity of it.

"Chrissy, c'm here, I………" he turned to face her, which was when he saw the gun, "er..Chrissy…"

"What now, Charlie?" exasperated.

He waved his hand. She turned round just as a tall man stepped into the room.

"Well, well, well. So what do we have here??" the mixture of teasing and menace in the tone sent shivers up Chrissy's spine. Charlie made to move towards Chrissy and the gun waved in his direction. She put a hand out in a defensive gesture, _no, Charlie, please don't_.

A glimmer of light, "Mr Bader I presume?"

"Quite correct, but you have the advantage?" the easy conversational tone was scaring both Chrissy and Charlie.

"Agent Kowalski, FBI." She paused, a small futile gesture in her head, mentally she shrugged, one in a million, but she had to play the card. "You're under arrest."

He glanced at the gun in his hand. "I don't think so. In fact, I think that I came in disturbed some burglars who were attempting to rob Miss Neill, and fired on them." Charlie made to move further away, trying to create two targets and draw Bader's fire, there was a cold slippery feeling in his stomach as the gun followed his movements. "What do you think?"

What Chrissy thought was destined never to be heard. As she was preparing to square up to Bader, a new voice added itself to the proceedings. A voice that caused the room to spin, and the ground to heave beneath her feet.

"I think y'gonna drop it and put y'hands up." The warm rich New York accented voice jerked Charlie to his feet in shock. Bader spun round, his hand wavered and dropped.

"But….but…" he spluttered.

Charlie and Chrissy could have joined in the punchline.

"but…….you're dead!"

Alphonse Royo stood framed in the doorway behind. In reality, "stood" was stretching it a bit. The door frame appeared to be holding him up, the big Latin was on crutches, his heavily plastered left leg stuck out at an awkward angle, his good left hand had a firm grip on one crutch and he was using it to prop himself up, his bandaged right hand was wrapped round a handgun, which Charlie's dazed brain dimly recognised as one of Lucy's.

Alphonse was a really lousy shot, but Bader wasn't to know that; however, it was painfully obvious that he was weak and ill, uncharacteristically pale, the livid bruises and scrapes on his face stood out, and it didn't take a genius to figure that with a broken leg in plaster his mobility was going to be seriously affected. But the blue eyes held a cold, hard look, and the gun was rock steady in his big square hand.

Bader paused, caught in total indecision. He could easily take Alphonse out in his current condition, but his chances of getting close to the big Latin were low, the gun never wavered and the man's partners were behind him now.

"I'm interested to know how come's you know I'm dead!" Alphonse continued in the same conversational tone Bader had used earlier. "Especially as we didn't advertise." He raised the gun a little.

Bader seemed about to say something, when his eyes widened slightly and he smiled. Alphonse held the deadpan expression as he felt the gun muzzle press into the back of his neck.

"Miss Laura Neill, I presume." The gun pressed harder into his flesh. Moving extremely awkwardly, Alphonse managed to turn slightly. An unlovely sneer plastered itself across his features as all his predictions came true in an instant. But the calculating look of utter triumph in her eyes worried him.

"Why don't you join your friends, Mr Royo." She indicated Charlie and Chrissy, "Christian, get his gun. And try to do it right this time."

Alphonse relinquished the gun, he couldn't take chances. He was rapidly approaching the limit of his strength, but he had no intention of advertising that to his enemy either. He moved over very slowly to join the others, Charlie knew without being told that his big friend was fading, surreptitiously he eased off the computer chair, so that Alphonse could rest on it. The look of gratitude that his partner shot him spoke volumes.

Alphonse pulled himself together with an effort, if the plan was going to work, he had to get a confession. But his head was swimming and pains were running up and down his leg. Suppressing a desire to throw up, he addressed his partners. "Just before I was knocked cold, I gotta good look at the driver, it was her!"

Laura smiled, it was a cold, cruel, smile. "I knew it was a mistake to just leave you. But backing up over you would have pointed straight at the gallery and the paintings. I couldn't afford that."

Chills ran up Charlie's spine. _She ran 'Phonse down for some paintings!!!_ He'd run across a lot of violence in his criminal career, but that kind of casual cruelty. He thought about the anguish he'd gone through when he thought his fun-loving friend was dead, and started a slow burn. She'd tricked Ice, she'd threatened the team, she'd tried to kill Alphonse……… he started to rise from the desk he was sitting on.

Alphonse cast a warning glance at his partner, _Charlie stay put,_ "….So it was all about Jacoby's paintings. You and him," he glanced at Bader, "were ripping Jacoby off, so when Jacoby was approached by Briter, the new deal was better and Jacoby was going to take it, which didn't suit you at all. So you killed Jacoby."

"Actually it was Christian who killed Stuart. But, yes, that's about right." Laura gestured with the gun, "we had a beautiful set up, somehow Stuart found out about it. He went to Christian, blustering about his new deal and how we were going to be out in the cold, and that he was going to tell the whole world about the scam. We simply couldn't allow that."

"So you killed him." Chrissy's tone was hard and cold.

"It was so easy. Stuart was in the warehouse late, packing up his precious paintings. Christian knocked him out first, and then laid the fire. A lamp falls over and sets fire to dry packing materials, a tragic accident." Laura seemed to lose patience, the gun motioned.

"Enough explanation, now move."

Alphonse looked her. "Did you get that?"

Puzzled she frowned.

"Perfectly." O'Connor opened the far door and stepped into the room. "Laura Neill, Christian Bader, you are under arrest for the murders of Stuart Jacoby, Diane Allen and the attempted murder of Alphonse Royo."

Bader seemed to fold like a wet tissue, but Laura levelled her gun directly at O'Connor.

"Ah would nae do that." Ali snatched the gun from her hand before she had time to even react to his presence, "or yon man will be addin' resisting arrest to yer list o' crimes."

Chrissy was looking from one to the other in amazement. "How……..why…."

O'Connor sighed. "Alphonse gave us the name forty-eight hours ago. Lucy figured, if he _died_, she could protect him better and it might make someone careless….."

"So we went through that for nothing." Charlie's tone was dangerous. "You cooked up a scheme to put us through hell for nothing," he rose to his feet.

"Charlie.." it was somewhere between a sigh and a gasp, and Charlie spun round to grab hold of Alphonse as the big man wilted.

"**Shit**, 'Phonse don't do this to me." He struggled to support his partner's two hundred pound weight. Ali left Laura in O'Connor's capable hands and went to help Charlie. Between them, they managed to half-drag, half-carry Alphonse to the couch. By the time they'd managed to get him reasonably comfortable, back up had appeared, O'Connor handed over Laura and Bader to them; moving up to the couch he checked on his prize witness.

"How' y'doing?"

Alphonse opened one eye, "I'll make it." And promptly went back to sleep again.

Charlie sat slumped on the end of the couch, just above his partner's head, the turn of events was making his head spin again.

He looked up at O'Connor, "so you cooked this idea up between yourselves, put us all through hell…" he waved an expressive hand.

Without any warning, Chrissy lunged at O'Connor. It had all been too much.

She never got there. Suddenly she was swept into a pair of muscular arms, her struggles stilled, squashed against a broad chest. She looked up, Ali looked straight back at her, no apology in his gaze, but something else. For a second she considered questioning that look, but this was too public a place for it. Then she leaned into him, taking what he was offering. Ali closed his eyes and hung on, he read the question in her gaze perfectly.

O'Connor was looking around him. "Where's Gregory?"

Charlie pulled himself together with an effort, turned his dazed brain to the whereabouts of his other partner.

As one, he and O'Connor turned to where they were putting Laura into the back of a squad car. She looked back, the final triumph on her face unmistakable.

Charlie spoke for both of them. "Oh shit."

__


	10. Chapter Ten

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Chapter Ten

Isaac Gregory came to with the distinct impression that trolls were somehow loose inside his skull. Malevolent trolls with hobnail boots and hammers. He opened his eyes. Someone had turned the room sideways, at least that was his first impression. He closed his eyes again. It was all too hard to try and figure out, but he made the effort anyway.

__

Okay, I came in here…….where is "here" by the way……..looking for answers. Gingerly he felt the back of his head. _Guess I must have found 'em._ He tried to sit up. _Bad move_, the malevolent trolls were joined by a rampaging elephant stamping around inside his skull, and for some reason he seemed to be very attached to the floor.

Ice prised both eyes open and attempted to gather his scattered wits again. He was handcuffed to a pipe. He tugged experimentally on his wrist, to no avail. His failure to free himself caused him to slump back down with a groan. _Dammit. Charlie, where you at? Alphonse?_ Then he remembered. Remembered why he was there.

Ice moaned again. This time there was real pain and anguish in his voice. His reckless partner had lost his life trying to prove something to Ice, something which Alphonse's death had proved. Laura was, if not the actual killer, at least involved. And Isaac Gregory had been the patsy.

It was the soft sound of ticking which distracted him this time. He glanced automatically at his watch, wondering why he'd never heard it before. Then it dawned, that ticking was too loud. Galvanised, he rolled over. The timer mechanism was there, several feet away. Well and truly out of his reach.

Ice's horrified gaze took in the wires running to a container, in the gloom of the warehouse he could just make out the dim discolouration of the liquid inside the plastic. Something told him it wasn't water.

Malcolm O'Connor slammed the filing cabinet door shut with a vindictive shove. Laura Neill was playing with them, playing on their fears for their partner. O'Connor had had about enough. He looked across at Ali, the big Scot's cynical expression said it all; aware that he was putting his whole career, not to mention the law, on the line, O'Connor nodded.

Ali smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile and it held a promise of mayhem.

It had taken them twenty minutes to get Alphonse back to the hospital to the loving clutches of his children and girlfriend. When the rest of Alphonse's strange extended "family" had realised he was still alive, and that the last forty-eight hours had been a scam, the explosion could have been heard in LA. Everyone started to shout and argue at once. Dylan and Adam had quickly retreated into Alphonse's room, to spend time with their exhausted father; Lucy had surged forward, the light of battle in her eyes and the air had been filled with accusation.

Ali had seen his partner was doing okay by herself, there was nothing Lucy enjoyed more than a good scrap; then turned his mind to their immediate problem. He had the nasty feeling that they were on a short clock here. After O'Connor had failed to get any useful information out of Laura. Ali had volunteered to loosen Bader's tongue. O'Connor had witnessed Ali's methods of persuasion before and wasn't too keen. He said as much. Ali pointed out quite reasonably that O'Connor had gotten nowhere.

O'Connor gave in.

Less than ten minutes later, Ali had his answer. An answer that he wished he didn't have. They had half an hour, if Bader could be believed. After that Ice was toast.

Ice had made that unpleasant discovery himself. He had a very short life expectation, if he couldn't get free. He'd searched his pockets with some difficulty, and he was trying everything in turn to see if he could pick the lock on the cuffs. It was slow and difficult. The light in the warehouse wasn't the best and Ice didn't have much to work with.

Abandoning the idea of freeing his wrist, he examined the possibility of moving further away from the bomb. Further down the pipe. He slid backwards, the cuff followed, _so far, so good_. He kept moving.

Ali drove, O'Connor, Charlie and Chrissy all directed. So Ali tuned them out, he pushed the heavy Explorer as fast as he dared on an unfamiliar road in the dark. By his reckoning, they would have about five minutes when they got there.

**__**

Shit. He pushed the 4x4 harder.

Lucy O'Bannon stood with her hands on her hips and glared at her lover. Alphonse took no notice, he propped himself against the bed and slid Ali's brown check shirt on, he'd all ready persuaded his son and daughter to help him on with the baggy shorts which the big Scot had lent him, they didn't exactly fit, Ali was heavier than Alphonse, and they weren't a fashion statement _that's for sure_ but they were the only pants he could get over the cast on his leg.

"Royo, are you completely mad. Guess the bang on the head's made you lose your mind."

Alphonse looked at her sideways. "Ice thinks I'm dead, now thanks to that he could get himself killed. I gotta be there." He eased his weight between the crutches, maintaining his best poker face as his sprained wrist protested at the second lot of abuse inside of three hours. "Now are you going to drive or do I have to get Adam to?"

Lucy's scowl grew blacker. "I'll drive. But when y'laid up for six more months because of this don't come crying t'me, wiseass."

"I won't." Perfectly deadpan, Alphonse had her and he knew it, he also knew her threat was meaningless. Lucy would take care of him whatever. It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

She held his gaze a second longer, then left to get the car.

Alphonse made it to the front door of the hospital, anxiously flanked by Dylan and Adam. Thirty seconds later Lucy screeched to a halt in front of them.

Alphonse stared at the car, first he wondered where she'd got it, then blessed American sports car manufacturers. The Viper was a big car, if it had been one of it's European cousins, he could never have managed to get into the passenger seat with a broken leg in plaster.

"Y'gonna stare at it, or get in?"

Dylan and Adam pulled themselves together and helped him get in, it was a bit of a struggle, but finally he made it. Lucy downshifted and pulled into the traffic. Alphonse cast a questioning glance at her, which he was certain she didn't see.

"Don' ask!"

"I ain't."

Lucy drove. Alphonse clenched his good hand into the soft leather of the seat's edge and prayed. Not that he was a nervous passenger, after this trip he was going to take up something safe, and non threatening………………………….like swimming naked with sharks………………………………hungry sharks…………..hungry, man-eating sharks.

A hand closed over his clenched one. Alphonse appreciated the contact, for about two seconds, then he rather wished she had both hands on the steering wheel.

Lucy sensed his tension and grinned. _Won't do him any harm to have a bit of a fright and we need to get there!!_ She frowned, Ice was a big part of her life too, and she had no intention of losing him to Laura's machinations. Lucy downshifted at the lights, then settled down to some serious driving.

The big sports car flew.

Ice slid gratefully round the corner and came to an abrupt halt. There was a spur on the pipe. Frantically he yanked at the cuff, but it remained stubbornly stuck on the other side. He rolled back a little so that he could peer around the corner, the solid concrete wall would protect him from the initial blast, the way he figured it; but if he couldn't get free he was toast.

In the gloom he couldn't manage to see the clock, but knew that he didn't have much time. He was just trying to work out what he had left to have another go at the lock when the screech of brakes outside the warehouse alerted him to possible rescue.

Ali screeched to a halt somewhere in the middle of the warehouses, thankfully there weren't many of them, just a dozen or so. The car doors opened even before the engine had stopped turning over and everyone bailed out.

Ali spun round once, trying to get his bearings. Then he bellowed "**ICE, ICE GREGORY!!**" For a second it seemed that there was no answer, but then he heard the answering shout, Ali didn't hesitate, they had no time for that. He headed straight for the sound.

The door was padlocked, he pulled out his handgun, aimed carefully for the lock and fired four times, the padlock blew apart.

"McBride, wait." O'Connor was behind him.

"Nae time." Ali was through the door before O'Connor could stop him.

Chrissy and Charlie were caught on the edge of uncertainty, wanting to be in there, knowing they'd be in the way, desperately hoping that Ali would get to Ice before the warehouse went up.

It was dark and gloomy, and Ali could sense the clock was ticking.

"Ice, where the hell are ye?"

"Over here." Ali followed the voice. _Dammit._ He reached for his handgun again.

"Roll as far away as possible."

Ice didn't need telling twice. Ali put the gun as close as he dared and fired. The handcuffs parted and Ali yanked Ice to his feet.

Then all hell broke loose.

There was a dull roar and they hurled themselves behind what cover there was, as a column of flame shot past them, igniting the packing materials. The inferno seemed to be all around them and they spun frantically round trying to see a way out. Ali kicked a couple of cases aside, and was forced back by the flames. 

"Look!" Ice gasped in Ali's ear, and the big Scot turned. There was a chance, not a good one, but it beat standing around waiting to be fried. They sprinted for the tiny gap.

The screeching of brakes announced Lucy and Alphonse's arrival, when the ominous sounding roar from the building had everyone spinning back to face the warehouse.

"ICE!" Charlie lunged forwards, O'Connor grabbed him. Alphonse made a move to try and get out of the car, but Lucy held onto his arm. He tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. Scanning the area, a tight feeling in her gut.

Then………

"LOOK!"

Everyone took off towards the two stumbling, battered figures that had emerged from the side of the burning building. Chrissy reached them first, followed closely by Charlie and Lucy.

Chrissy hauled Ice into her arms first, and held on as he coughed and spluttered. Ice pushed her slightly so she would let go of the stranglehold on his neck.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He wheezed. Leaving Ice to the attentions of Charlie and Lucy, Chrissy turned to Ali. The big Scot was coughing and wheezing, bent over.

Chrissy stepped closer and tentatively put her arms around him. Ali fought to catch his breath, and then gave up the attempt and pulled her closer, which was when they both discovered the big piece of glass sticking out of his right forearm.

"Ali!!!" Chrissy peeled his shirt sleeve back, trying to get a better look, as she gently tugged on the material, a fresh gush of blood welled up under her fingers. Ali's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed at her feet. "**Ali**!!" Chrissy was on her knees, unheeding of the rough ground and her expensive pant suit.

Lucy bent over her partner. "He'll be fine. Can cope with anyone else's blood, it's just his own that he has a problem with." The big Scot was already groaning and trying to sit up, then he twigged it was Chrissy's lap he was lying in and gave up the unequal struggle. Chrissy stroked his cheek.

Lucy knelt down and opened his shirt a little. "You ham!!" she hissed under her breath.

"Take's one tae know one." Barely audible, one eye opened a slit. They glared at each other. Then Lucy grinned.

After the first excitement had died down a little, Ice found himself sitting on the back of an ambulance while a paramedic dressed Ali's arm and tended to their various cuts and grazes. Which was Ice caught his first proper sight of Alphonse.

Ice's expression became unreadable. The big Latin paused unsure of his welcome, propped up on his crutches, eyeing his angry partner warily.

Ice sighed irritably.

"Don' say it."

"Say what?" Alphonse moved in, confident now. Ice and Ali shifted up a bit.

"Sit down before y'fall down." Ice had recovered his cool.

Alphonse grinned and manoeuvred round so that he could take the weight off his right leg and aching wrists. He sat down with some difficulty between them, paused a beat.

"Told y'so."

"**ALPHONSE!!!**" Ice and Charlie howled in unison. The Latin smirked _that's what friends are for, after all._

Back in New York, the boys retreated to Alphonse's hotel room. Chrissy was furious, everyone had steadfastly refused to go to hospital to be checked out. Alphonse suspected that he'd get an earful from his irate relatives and avoiding Rhonda seemed like a good idea too, so since he was the most serious "walking" wounded they headed for his room.

The conversation gradually turned to the case.

Charlie looked at Alphonse. "I don't get how you got onto Laura in the first place."

"Easy, she didn't call the police."

"What are you talking about?" Chrissy stared at him.

"Chrissy, you come home late from somewhere, and find him" he jerked a thumb at Ice, "in your apartment, and you don't call the police???"

"I suppose so?!"

Alphonse sighed, "What I don't get is why Briter offered a fortune for the Conquistador? Why'd he do that, it ain't worth much."

Ice smiled to himself for the first time in hours, or was it days. "Easy, Briter tol' me that the painting on the opposite wall's worth ten times that, so…."

"…she rushed out and valued it, found it was worthless, next time he made an offer she would have taken it at face value. Neat." Charlie appreciated the simplicity of the scam.

"Exactly."

Ice eased back in the comfy chair, "What I don't get, is where you and Lucy sprang from?"

A very irritable look crossed Ali's face, "Aye weel, she did nae steal it, the Viper's mine." He glared up at his partner from the other side of the bed, "Ah just did nae know she knew where the keys were."

Lucy smirked, unrepentant.

Seizing the chance later when they were almost alone, Ice sat down on the edge of his friend's bed. 

"'Phonse!"

"Yeah!" The Latin was almost asleep.

"Sorry."

"Sorry for what."

"That I didn' belie' ya."

Alphonse shifted down in the bed a bit, "don' matter." He mumbled, before turning over as far as his plastered leg would let him. Moments later the sound of snoring split the air.

Ice gave up, he'd make it up to his friend some other time. He was feeling pretty tired himself, so he got to his feet, glanced up at the wall and sighed. A copy of a Jacoby painting hung there, gently mocking him.


End file.
